Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the acclaimed self-actualization novel “Eat, Pray, Love”, gives a startling account about a time that she caught a glimpse of herself in a pane of glass. Having finally defeated crippling depression and the agony of her divorce, she claims that this glimpse was deeply profound because, for the first time in her life, she recognized her own image as that of a friend. No longer did she feel self-doubt, self-loathing, or self-consciousness; she found her reflection pleasing and, more importantly, beautiful.
Western women struggle, almost on a daily basis, with self-image. I cannot recall a single female friend who has not articulated to me some dissatisfaction with their physical appearance.
“My arms are too fat.”
“I have thunder thighs.”
“I can’t wear this because it makes my ass look big.”
“I wish I had boobs.”
“I have a zit on my chin the size of Russia, I’m not going out tonight.”
Whatever the physical objection, every woman that I know seems to think that there is something WRONG with her appearance. We are never satisfied. We spend hundreds of dollars on cosmetics every year, buy miracle creams to reduce wrinkles or cellulite, and some of us even opt for plastic surgery, enduring excruciating pain in the name of “beauty.”
Keeping this in mind, allow me to pass on a bit of wisdom that my favorite Korean bartender imparted to me. Mindy is 39-years-old and owns one of the only foreigner bars in town. She is a brash, sexy, shrewd businesswoman, and a give-it-to-you-straight kind of girl, whether it be liquor or advice.
One evening when we were talking about the deep philosophical idea of happiness over a bottle of soju, she said to me:
“Hope, sometimes people are so worried about the outside, they don’t think about the inside. They dress up, and get the boobs. They wear high-heels and make-up, but they don’t take care of their heart. If you take care of your spirit and your spirit is happy, it shows on the outside too.”
Since I make it a habit not only to listen to my elders, but also to always heed the advice of Korean bartenders, I thought a great deal about what Mindy said as I hiked my mountain Monday afternoon. I thought about why I was hiking this mountain everyday, and how good it makes my body and spirit feel. I thought about all of the things I’ve done in the past two years to enrich my spirit, and to seek out my true inner beauty. I also thought about all of the ways in which I have placed far too much emphasis on physical beauty rather than the lasting beauty of my own soul.
As I was thinking all of these deep thoughts, I reached the top of my mountain and was caught quite off guard: there on the trailhead map hung a rear-view mirror that someone had removed from a car.
I stopped dead in my tracks as I came face-to-face to with my own sweaty, sticky, glowing reflection and I stared, quietly, for a very long time.
My hair was matted with perspiration and I wore no make-up; no eyeliner for my baby-blues, no foundation to cover blemishes. The sunlight glinted off the sweat-beads on my forehead as slowly, but very deliberately, a smile spread across my face.
Beautiful. I am beautiful.
These words sprang to my mind at the top of my mountain, as I recognized all of the inner beauty that I had worked so hard to cultivate over the past few years. In that face reflected back to me I saw all of the smiles given to dear friends; I saw lips that had kissed lovers and sipped wine, my father’s eyes that had cried so many tears of joy, and cheeks that had been bruised but healed. I saw ears that have taken in the laughter of unforgettable nights, and have listened lovingly to the woes of others. And I glimpsed the future, hoping that my children will inherit my crooked but genuine grin, or my barely distinguishable beauty-mark.
Beautiful. I am beautiful. And I wondered just how often the women in my life say that to themselves.
For a long time I stared at myself and marveled at the light within, reflected back to me in an old rear-view mirror, then quietly I whispered,
“Annyounghaseh-yo.”
“Hello,” in Korean, and giving a reverent bow of appreciation and love, I turned to face my mountain once more.
No comments:
Post a Comment